The Visitor
by smurfette729
Summary: Jim gets a late night visit. Short oneshot.


A/N: I wish I could say I've been kicking this idea around for a while, but it just came to be yesterday. Hope you enjoy it and, as always, please review!

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

* * *

Maybe he wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been for her, if she hadn't visited him. He likes to think he would have, likes to think he could have been that brave even without her help, without her gentle shove in the right direction. He likes to think he would have, but he's not sure. Part of him thinks that he might have just let things continue on as they had been going, a friendship that had dwindled first into acquaintance and then into nothing.

Even now, he's not sure how she knew where to find him, how she got his address. He certainly hadn't given it to her during the brief conversation they'd had the first and only time they'd met. That had been more of the, "Hi, nice to meet you, goodbye," variety on their way out of the office. He'd thought he'd seen understanding flash through her eyes, a sparkle appear, when he'd said his name, but it had disappeared before he could be sure and she'd left him, gotten into the passenger seat of the car her future son-in-law had been sitting in, waiting to drive them to dinner.

No. He certainly hadn't given her his address. He hadn't even told her his last name. But she's Pam's mother and Pam has always had a mischievous, somewhat sneaky streak. Now Jim suspects he knows where she gets it.

He still hasn't told Pam about the visit, still isn't sure she knows, though he wonders what she attributes his sudden bravery to if she doesn't know.

* * *

He'd been surprised to hear his doorbell ring. It had been almost midnight and he certainly wasn't expecting company. He'd remembered her immediately when he answered the door. She was the mother of the woman he was in love with. He'd remembered her. 

With so many questions running through his mind, fighting for escape, the only thing he'd managed to choke out had been a strangled, "Hi." She'd laughed a laugh not unlike her daughter's and asked if she could come in, if they could talk.

He'd looked around, embarrassed at the condition of the living room. He'd been uncharacteristically lazy lately, and hadn't put anything away in a few days. A couple of ties were scattered haphazardly over the backs of chairs, tossed there at the end of long, boring days. Dishes were scattered on end tables, crusts of toast and pizza advertising his breakfasts and dinners. With Mark out of town, he hadn't felt the need to be as tidy as he usually was.

He'd started to invite her in, mumbling something resembling an apology for the mess, but she'd already moved past him and taken a seat on the couch, her polite request apparently only for show.

Understandably, he'd been shocked to see her, not only because it was so late, not only because she was Pam's mom, not only because he'd just met her once, in passing. But because he hadn't even seen or spoken to Pam herself in several months. He had left for Stamford, staying there only six weeks before it was closed and he found himself merged right back into the Scranton branch. He'd considered quitting rather than return, unable to face Pam. Their friendship had sort of ended after the Casino Night, neither of them able to look each other in the eye, let alone talk and play jokes. He'd transferred just a week later, Jan hoping he would get settled in Stamford and acquainted with his new coworkers before his trip. Jan had hoped that Jim would be enough to save that branch, thinking his social personality would motivate the other employees while his capabilities with clients increased profits.

In the end it hadn't been enough. The Stamford branch had closed and Jim had found himself back in Scranton, this time without Pam. He had been shocked when Phyllis approached him and gently yanked out his heart, telling him that Pam had left. He supposed it was his own fault for not knowing; he couldn't count the number of emails he'd left unopened, sent from Michael, Phyllis, Kelly and even Ryan. He'd wanted to sever ties completely with Scranton, thinking it would help him, somehow, to get over her.

It hadn't.

Neither had the rest of the information Phyllis had given him.

Pam and Roy had broken up.

She'd gone back to school.

She was working part-time as a receptionist for an art gallery.

Her new phone number was 570-502-7729. This bit of information had been left on a post-it note stuck to his computer screen. He hadn't seen Phyllis stick it there, and she hadn't signed her name, but he'd recognized her large, loopy script and had caught her watching him as he pulled it off and stuck it in his wallet, a small smile playing on her lips, as though she thought he just needed to be pushed gently in the right direction.

But for all of Phyllis' gentle pushes and not-so-subtle hints that he should go after Pam, Jim had remained unmoved. The phone number had remained in his wallet, stuck between a drawing she had done on a napkin once and a picture of his nephew. He'd hoped that if he lied to himself long enough, if he told himself he was over her, he would one day actually _be_ over her. He didn't think he could survive losing her again.

Yes, he was definitely surprised when her mother showed up at his door, pushed past him, and plopped down on his couch like it was a perfectly normal thing to do, like he wasn't standing in the doorway in such deep shock that he might never have moved again if she hadn't called out to him. Only her voice had finally roused him, enabling him to close the door and make his way to the living room, sinking into a chair across from her.

"This is a nice place you have," she'd said.

He'd thought it was just a passing comment, a polite way to enter into conversation with someone you don't know whose house you've just invited yourself into, and maybe a way of beginning the explanation for her visit. But when he'd responded with a mumbled, "Thanks," she'd asked him more questions about it - how long had he lived there, did he have a roommate, did it get a lot of sun during the day. He'd answered each question automatically, not really concentrating on his responses. He'd grown more and more confused with each question, not seeing how it could possibly be relevant to her visit, unless maybe she was moving to Scranton and looking for a roommate. Had she really driven two hours to interview him about his living arrangements?

She'd listened to each answer, seemingly interested in what he was saying. But she was also studying him, looking for clues that might help her, storing away what she saw.

When they'd exhausted the topic of his living situation (which didn't take long), Jim had hoped she would give him the reason for her visit. He'd been trying to figure it out since she'd arrived. His first thought - that something was had happened to Pam - had been immediately discarded. She didn't seem at all upset. Then he'd considered that he had something of Pam's that she needed back and she'd sent her mother to get it, too embarrassed or angry to face him herself. But he'd known he remembered everything Pam had ever given him, known that he didn't have anything she might ever need back. Unless she'd run out of paperclips and wanted to disassemble his medal. That didn't seem likely.

So when she'd stopped asking him about his apartment, he'd been hoping Mrs. Beesley was going to get to the point of her visit. No such luck. She'd moved on to his job - how he liked it, how it was to be back in Scranton, had Michael managed to get himself fired yet.

As he answered her questions, he considered just asking her outright why she was there. But he hadn't wanted to seem rude and he wasn't sure of the etiquette for when the mother of your ex-best friend whom you're still in love with unexpectedly drops in. So he'd answered her questions, hoping to eventually see the point.

And she'd just watched him while he spoke, taking in his reactions to her seemingly pointless questions. She'd noticed how his eyes had grown darker when she'd asked about work, how he'd had to pause and swallow before answering that, yes, they'd gotten a new receptionist. She'd seen the way he'd lowered his eyes slightly and begun fidgeting with his watch when she'd jokingly asked if the new receptionist was as good as Pam, seen that he'd been unable to voice an answer to this question, had only been able to manage a slight shake of the head.

Satisfied that she'd gotten all of the information she'd needed, she had smiled brightly and asked if she could trouble him for a glass of water. When he returned, he'd found her hovering near the door, her coat on, looking slightly smug. She'd said she had to go, making a comment about the hour. She'd thanked him and, to his surprise, leaned in and given him a hug. It was brief but warm, and Jim had only just barely been able to wrap his mind around what was happening and force his arms to close around her before it was over.

She turned to leave, stopping at the last second to face him for another moment.

"She does have feelings for you Jim. She's just scared."

With that, she had left, leaving Jim dumfounded and speechless in her wake.

He'd gone back to the living room, needing to sit, needing to sort through what had just happened.

When he'd sunk into the couch, he'd noticed a piece of paper on the coffee table that hadn't been there before. It shook slightly in his hand as he picked it up, bringing it closer as the visit from Pam's mother suddenly became clear. It said:

Pam Beesley

108 Summit Pointe Dr. Apt 4G

Scranton, PA 18508

Beneath that, in neat, elegant cursive, it said, " Go see her. You're both being idiots."

* * *

His lips slip into a soft smile as he looks at the note, remembering. He likes to think he would have gone to Pam even if her mother hadn't stopped by, but he just doesn't know if he would have been brave enough to face rejection from her again. 

As he slips the note back into the drawer, his eyes land on the picture sitting in the corner of the desk, Pam in a white beaded gown, him in his tux, as they gaze into each other's eyes, their arms wrapped around each other as their friends and family looked on.

Jim is caught in the moment, remembering that day, how she looked, how it had seemed like she was trying not to skip down the aisle. He remembers how he had felt, how he had to resist the urge to run towards her and meet her halfway.

His smile becomes a full-on grin as he hears Pam enter the room, feels her arms slip around him from behind, feels the kiss she presses into his back.

He thinks maybe he'll buy his mother-in-law some flowers. Or a car.


End file.
